As the novel grew Ruth was astonished to see herself enter and dominate it: sometimes as she actually was, with all her dreams reviewed—as if he had caught her talking in her sleep. “Look here, daddy,” she said, in a tone of great reasonableness, “I MUST go to that dance, you know. . I want to be myself. ’ While he trod a deliberate path through the pink saloon towards the door, Gerald encouraged a flow of harmless chatter about the people Madame had met and the parties she had attended. It is quite light yet, and I want to have one more look at that angry red sun. Gerald watched her vanish into the darkness, unusually incensed. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. "Thames would let himself in; and Jack generally finds an entrance through the backdoor or the shop-window, when he has been out at untimely hours. \"Where are you going?\" She cried. \" She replied to him, looking into his blue eyes. He could not permit her to remain in that position.
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